


Sweet Dreams Lead You Here

by Loptr_Laufeyson



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams, Exploration, F/M, POV First Person, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loptr_Laufeyson/pseuds/Loptr_Laufeyson





	1. Guiding You In

In your dreams you will come to find me. Through your own curiosity you will seek me out. With so much time and space between us, it is likely you will find me in places and positions not always befitting my person, but for you I think I could bear being seen with not walls or barriers-at least for a short time. When you open your mind you will be within the realm of Asgard, in the palace of the Æsir and you will be searching for me.

The corridor is blocked off by guards and you can almost taste the electric field of magic that webs its way across the expanding dome of the interconnecting hallways. The passageways are lined with torches and the golden glow is eerie warmth compared to the coldness of the air. You almost don’t want to come. It is a decision between going home to your warm bed or journeying into a world that you do not fully understand, but you are a curious creature and the idea of catching me excites you.

The guards don’t register your presence, you are totally free from their hawkish gazes, and you follow the invisible webs to a large set of double doors. Stretched along the arch of the door are runes that are embedded deep within the wood; dense, dark letters that appear to be a blackish-red. Perhaps they were written in blood…perhaps they were written in my blood while I was made a prisoner. In either event they are a severe warning and a ward. Whoever is in here needs to be kept here: bingo!

The painful image of a broken Loki will pass as you stretch out your hand to open the door; you grasp the heavy knob and turn it slowly in your hand letting the cool silky metal glide across your palm. A spark bites at your fingertips, but it passes from a quick pain to a cooling tingle that expands from your wrist up to your slender shoulders and down your back. With this caress, a shiver races down the rest of your spine and the doors open for you, revealing the room you have been looking for.

You barely glance at the room as you turn swiftly to make sure the door is shut behind you. You are unsure of many things: the reasons why you are here are entirely scattered, but above all you are sure that you must expect anything to happen and should it be something between us two, you wouldn’t want us to be interrupted. Without a second thought, you fit the large lock on the door, and turn to survey the room-hoping to catch a glimpse of this fallen prince.

He is not here, is the first thought that goes through your mind; which is a shame.It was clear from your brief examination of the halls of the palace that this place was far from simple, but obviously the residents of Asgard don’t understand the words “simple comforts”. At least unlike the rest of the areas you’ve encountered there is less gold. It is predominated by cool blues and deep running greens with slivers of silver peaking about. The high ceiling glistens a deep purple-turquoise. 

The room is a large circle and in the center is a large round fire pit. Its large belly is crafted out a silvery-black metal and by the light of the fire inside, it casts the whole room in a serene glow. This room shines because it is a haven, a sanctuary, and although the dozens of empty dark oak shelves, it is clear that this place was once full of books. To the left of the fire is a set of arching windows that look out onto a small balcony, but the door is crisscrossed in a fine web of magic. 

Clearly, Loki is not that way. Several yards back from the fire is a LARGE bed. It is nestled into the farthest back of the wall and raised up by three steps. It resembles-if one were to look at it the wrong way- an altar. Great, you think, he has an altar for a bed. Rolling your eyes you look around at the assorted tables and chairs, small sofas and scattered blankets around the room. He isn’t playing hide and seek in this room. 

You turn your attention to the right of the fire where there is another set of doors. It resembles something you might find in a medieval castle. You approach slowly; half suspecting he will jump out at you. The air gets warmer and thicker as you get closer and you realize that this must be his private bathroom that he was going on about. Perhaps you should knock? Perhaps you should just enter, he's being a pain and deserves to get surprised. Doesn't he? Don't I darling?


	2. Where Am I?

Each passing day since I have been allowed back into my chambers has been a small step toward a happy normalcy. True, it has been stripped of all the books I once poured over and I am no longer able to walk on the balcony, but I have my room again. The past few days have been an attempt to fixing a routine: before the days and nights were scattered; now I mark the passing of time by meals brought and time spent talking with my mother until the sky darkens and I retire to the bath.

The first night back the bath was necessary, but now it has become routine-a habit. The feeling of hot water on my skin, the sensation of floating in an almost endless pool of liquid is too tempting to pass. This room too is extravagant, much like the rest of the palace, but I have kept in my own personal style. The double doors lead to an antechamber where-behind a small door is a place of relief and a sink to wash. 

There are other little necessities including shelves with ointments and bottles of potions, lotions, and soothing salts, but the truest beauty of this wonder hides behind the second door. It’s made of smooth blue class and as it opens it reveals a cave, a grotto. It is carved from dark smooth stone and stretches back 10 ft and is, at its deepest, 7ft. The three steps leading into the bath are the same rock. The water rolls in a gentle current and steam rises on the surface. Like a coiling snake.

I dive deep down to the bottom of the pool, soaking up as much warmth as is possible. I feel alive here, free and calm. The muzzle has been left off since the coffee incident, so I am able to swim naked and unhindered. As I surface, the echo of the splashing water reverberates across the small expanse, leaving a magical tone to settle across the surface. I move towards the shallow end, leaning back against the cooler rocks and move the hair from my face, slicking it back as I gaze up at nothing.

The water never grows cold here; it simply filters through by means of magic, and reheats. Always clean, always hot. I let out a long slow sigh. How long will these days last? These comfortable conditions, no doubt, the result of something Odin had planned for him, but what? It’s all so political, and for once I’m not going to linger on the thoughts. I have more pleasant topics to wonder about. Carrie, I breathe out her name and it echoes with the sound of water and for a moment I drown in it. She is a wonder. The smirk comes naturally.  
The next sigh is shorter lived and is followed by a sudden movement of water as I step out of the pool; climbing the steps up to grab a towel and wrap it around my waist. I have not brought a change of garments with me, but instead choose to dry off sitting by the fire before rolling into the sheets nude; however, a sound outside the antechamber door stops me in my tracks. There is someone outside in my room. 

Without the aid of my magic I am blind to who they may be. Thor usually is too boisterous to be stealthy and my mother and Odin very rarely come in so late without announcing themselves. I wrap the towel securely around my waist and open the door cautiously. I look first to the door of my chamber; it is secure and locked as I had left it. Stepping forward from the bathroom, I close the door firmly behind me and look towards the bed, not expecting anything out of the ordinary.


	3. Not So Curious After All

Having decided against going into the bathroom, probably because you didn’t want to walk into anything awkward, but mostly because you don’t know how well you could behave knowing there might be a naked Loki a few feet away, you step away from the door, and move towards the bed. There is a dark green comforter with long thin lines of intertwining gold and silver thread. The knots are intricate; you recognize runic letters, you’ll have to ask him about that. The rest of the bed is layered with pillows in the same knots and materials and fur blankets.

It’s a little weird…he’s big bad supervillain Loki. Why would need to be surrounded by all these soft fluffy things. Well, okay, maybe not so weird, if there was a place to hide from a fluster cluck of a family it would be a bedroom like this. You sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into slightly. There is only the sound of the crackling fire in the room. The room is warm, quiet, and Loki free—maybe this was all just a joke, but how to get back home? 

You climb under the blankets in an attempt to go to sleep. Maybe snoozing on his bed will send you to your own bed, but you must remember that rolling in this bed and rolling in your own give different results. Here, at least, you’d just roll into more fluffy pillows not the floor. For a while, you lay comfortably on your side, wrapping your arms around one of the larger pillows. It smells good, dark spices and sandalwood. Like him?

Before you know it, you are drifting into a semi-contented sleep. The blankets are too hot and without thinking you strip off your shirt and flip the covers onto your hips, if your top cools off you’ll be more comfortable. Soon the sounds of the fire taper off and there is nothing but a calm white noise. You barely register the sound of door-it’s alright-you think, you must be at home, someone must have just shut a door; nothing out of the ordinary.


	4. Welcome to My World

Someone is in my bed and I am furious. I move as stealthily as I can, eyes searching for something to use as a weapon. This has to be a trick, and without magic I am helpless. I pause and watch from a few feet away from the bed, watching carefully. It is a woman, a young woman, a half-naked woman. I feel my eyebrows rise high to my hair line. Who is she? Her back is to me, all I can see is the creamy expanse of her small back and her dark hair. 

Stepping up, I am closer now, but still unable to determine who she is. I kneel on the mattress and put one arm over her so I can move the dark hair from her face. Ahhh, it’s you. I will never admit the noise that comes from my throat to anyone else. It’s an embarrassing cross between a purr and a groan. Before I can help myself, the smirk grows across my face and I move to lie behind you, pressed intimately against your back. You move slightly, obviously sensing something has changed. 

Slipping my arms around your torso, I press my chest to your back, and nuzzle into your hair. I can feel you are on the verge of waking, but not quite there. You are too comfortable, too warm, and getting warmer as you feel my heated skin. I wrap strong arms around you and we lay together like this for a few moments, my heart is beating faster, wondering if you are going to wake up or worse that I will wake up and find that this was just a dream.

Eventually, you settle and meld your fingers to mine. A thought occurs to me, about what we must look like. I have read many times the jokes you make about your body. You flit between loving and loathing your body; comments that could be harmless, but in the end are small blips of self-consciousness. Here you are so free, open, and relaxed. I want you to remember this. I sigh deeply, the sound husky even to my own ears. I should wake you. 

I should make sure you are aware of who it is holding you. I press my nose into the back of your neck, letting the tip smooth over the sensitive nerves there, letting warm air glide over you. I move my lips against the shell of your ear and squeeze you into another hug. I nip gently against the soft lobe of your ear and whisper: “If I ever read about you talking negatively about your body again, I will take liberties and show you exactly what I think about your body”.

I squeeze you tight into another hug and the room suddenly disappears. You awake in your room, in your own bed. There is a small piece of paper in your hand. It’s the size of a notecard and in an elegant writing says: “You promised me a hug once, I have now given you mine, and you still owe me one of your own. Please come again, I would better enjoy your company when you are awake.”


End file.
